


Dress Rehearsal

by maystone



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-16
Updated: 2003-02-16
Packaged: 2019-04-29 09:04:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14469375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maystone/pseuds/maystone
Summary: Wash dreams.  There are animals.





	Dress Rehearsal

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Firefly’s Glow](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Firefly%27s_Glow), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Firefly's Glow collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/fireflysglow/profile).

 

Dress Rehearsal

## Dress Rehearsal

### by Maystone

Disclaimer: Serenity and her crew are the sole and rightful property of ME, Joss Whedon and Tim Minear. No disrespect is intended from my borrowing them; no financial gain is garnered by me from their use in this story. 

Note: This is a response to a challenge on Television Without Pity to write a dream fic. No spoilers. Adult content. 

* * *

The internal music playing for his amusement would make even one of Badger's whores blush, but it's his perfect backdrop for the coming event. Wash can hear his wife's footsteps coming down the catwalk toward the bridge where he waits, oh so expectantly. He leans over to get a better view of her approach, and he almost drowns in his own saliva at the picture she presents. Zoe is wearing a skin-tight red dress, slit from ankle to hip on either side. The unbroken flow of silk over her exquisite body leaves him no doubt that only a hairs-breadth of material separates him from paradise. Her hair is up and off her neck, held in place by a complicated system of combs. He imagines himself slowly removing the combs, releasing in liquid sections her lovely dark hair. He starts to sweat.

She's on the stairs now, stalking him like a panther, her eyes glittering, never leaving his. Wash swears he can hear a growl pulse out from her throat. Or maybe that was him? He's still seated in his pilot's chair, but his body seems to have turned to wax. She stands over him now as his arms hang useless, his legs splay out and his head lolls back, eyes wide with anticipation. She puts a hand on his chest and pushes the chair with him in it until it's stopped, braced by the flight console. Without a word, never breaking eye contact, she straddles him in the chair. And suddenly all that wax has turned to cold, hard steel. About damn time, he accuses his betrayer body. Her legs on either side of him are exposed up past the joining of thigh and hip. The silk spills to the floor through the diamond shape created by the position of their bodies. He wishes fervently that he'd been smart enough to be waiting for her stark naked just to feel that silk against him now. He's hypnotized by her and has to remember to breathe as she slowly moves her lips toward his. Slowly. Slowly. Slowly. There! He feels the first hint of her satin lips against his and groans with thanks that the wait is finally over. He presses up to her . . . 

"Zoe." 

"Sir?" 

Wash is kissing air. He opens his eyes and wildly gasps for breath. Mal is there in his annoying tight-pants-and-suspenders combo, his arms crossed, relaxed and leaning up against the bulkhead. Zoe is standing at attention in front of him. 

"Mal? What the fuck do you think you're doing? We're a little busy right now, in case you didn't notice." Your pants probably cut off the circulation to your brain, he continues sarcastically to himself. 

"Zoe, got this really brilliant plan that'll no doubt turn to go-she 'fore it's done. Need you to follow me around to pick up the pieces," Mal tells her matter-of-factly. 

"Absolutely, Sir. No place I'd rather be." 

"Excuse me?" Wash is sputtering. 

"Figured I'd find you two here," Jayne calls up as he makes his way to the bridge. He's sporting twin bandoleers across his broad chest and carrying a very large rifle; a huge handgun is holstered at his hip. Knife hilts peek out of each boot top. 

"Heavy date tonight?" Wash asks him sweetly. 

"Figured you could use some extra muscle on this caper," Jayne intones solemnly. 

Caper?  
"Could at that. Listen up, here's the deal." They pull in closer, forming a tight triangle, shoulders touching. 

"Hello!" Wash waves at them from his chair. "Midnight assignation with my wife going on here. The three of you can plan your merry mayhem in half an hour, OK?" He shifts uncomfortably in his chair and reassesses. "All right, fifteen minutes. Tops." 

The trio maintain their position, and now all Wash can hear is a low buzz, words without meaning. "Zoe?" Nothing. "Sweetie pie?" Nada. 

"Pssst." 

Wash rubs a hand over his ear, trying to shoo away the insect noise. 

"Pssssssssssst!" 

He looks around for the source of the leak. 

"Master! Down here!" 

His small herd of toy dinosaurs are looking up at him expectantly. Okayyy. 

"Master, you seem to be having some trouble with your mate." It's his favorite, the stegosaurus. 

"No, there's no trouble," he replies forcefully. "And don't call me Master." 

"I told you it was wasted on him," sneers the T. Rex. 

"But you are our God, Master. We must honor you." It's the brachiosaurus, his long neck bowed in humility. 

"I don't care. Don't call me . . ." he stops. "Your God? Really?" He pulls himself together. "Look, no master, no god. It's Wash. Just Wash." 

"So Wash - got a little female trouble?" The T. Rex leers at him. 

"I told you - there's no trouble. Zoe is just a little consumed with her work right now. Nothing I can't handle." 

"Consumed? Wash, she don't even know you're here," the Rex snorts. The allosaurus snickers in agreement. 

"Of course she knows I'm here. I'm the reason she's even up here! You see what she's wearing? That's all for me, boys. All for me." He looks back at her approvingly and notices with alarm that now she has her holster slung around her hips. This can't be good. 

He hears a titter coming from the group behind him and he whirls around to try to catch the taunting lizard in the act. The stegosaurus, triceratops, and brachiosaurus are glaring at the other two. The allosaurus is staring innocently up at the ceiling while the Rex is casually brushing his claws against his chest and humming to himself off-key. 

"Zoe's gun is as much a part of her as, as . . . her eyelashes. Nothing to worry about here," he repeats. "I got it covered!" 

"Umm, Wash," the brachiosaurus breaks in hesitantly and regretfully stretches out his neck toward the trio. 

Wash slowly turns around. Zoe's dress is now tucked into her uniform pants. Wash sighs and drops his chin onto his chest. Steeling himself, he turns back to confront 5 pairs of eyes trained on him. And only three pair hold any sympathy. 

"OK, she's a little distracted right now. But I still come first. I just have to be a little more forceful, that's all." He turns around again, hands clasped in front of him, and calls out loudly, "Zoe? Baby?" The low buzz never ceases. "Bao-be, we need to talk." Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz. "Zoe!" He might as well be talking to a fritzed-out monitor panel. 

"Yeah, great distraction technique you got there, chief. Why don't you try these?" Suddenly Wash is holding three goslings. "Go ahead," urges the Rex snidely. "Work some magic." 

He hasn't juggled since flight school, but he gives it his best effort. The fuzzy creatures circle effortlessly in front of him, giving soft honks when they land in the palms of his hands. "How'm I doing?" he asks hopefully. 

"See for yourself," the triceratops replies sadly. 

Wash holds the goslings to his chest and almost unwillingly turns his head back to look at his wife. Who now is in full uniform. Her hair is still up, though. All is not lost! 

"Well, goslings," he says dismissively to the herd. "Everyone does goslings. Chuh," he gives a brave laugh. 

"Try these, sport," the Rex orders. 

There's a loud pop and the sound of indignant, shocked honking and suddenly the goslings are gone and Wash has an armful of beagle puppies. 

"OK. OK, we'll just see about this now," Wash retorts as he puts the pups in motion. They've curled their little bodies into smooth balls, but their ears are flapping out making the aerodynamics a little tricky. It's not the smoothest performance, but at least he doesn't drop any of them. After a minute, he stops and looks at the herd triumphantly. "Huh? Huh? Not bad for an old fly boy." They all studiously avoid eye contact. 

"What?" He can feel himself getting defensive. "It was the aerodynamics. The ears! Flopping!" He notices as one of the pups turns to the others and rolls his eyes. 

"All right, I have had enough of this!" He lowers the puppies to the deck and releases them. With little doggie laughs they scamper down the stairs and off into the ship. 

Wash strides over to the three warriors, still deep in . . . whatever the hell it is they're doing. 

"Mal. Jayne. Get the hell off my bridge! Zoe, we're making love - now!!" He reaches for her, but his arm passes right through her as though he isn't even there. Zoe chooses that moment to reach back and with one artful movement the combs are gone and her hair is back to its normal style. 

"This is too painful. I . . . I just can't watch anymore." The stegosaurus has a little catch in his throat as he addresses the rest of the herd. 

"Hey, I heard the big dumb one talking before - Kaylee made protein pops! Last one to the kitchen is a troglodyte!" The Rex leaps off the console and hits the deck loping. 

Wash steps back to avoid being run over by the plastic stampede. As the sound of them skittering down the corridor recedes from his hearing, he throws himself into his pilots chair. Zoe, Mal, and Jayne are still standing, still planning, still connected at the shoulders. 

"It's not fair. It's not fair! It's not fair." 

* * *

Someone is shaking him. 

"Honey? Honey, wake up. You're having a bad dream." 

He opens his eyes to see Zoe smiling down at him. Seeing that he's awake she stands up from the bed where she'd been kneeling beside him and continues pulling on her clothes. 

"Don't." He holds his hand out to her. 

"Don't what?" 

"Don't get dressed. Come back to bed." 

"I can't be late. Captain's waiting." 

"Be late." 

"What?" Something in his voice makes her look at him quizzically. 

"Be. Late." He stares at her heatedly, his hand still held out to her. He feels her studying him. Suddenly she gives a low laugh and takes his hand, allowing him to pull her back on top of him. 

"What do you have in mind?" she purrs at him. 

He laughs with delight. "Oh, I think I can dream something up." 

End 

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